


The Adventures of Hildread Dawnsbane

by Yanara126



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, I don't get it but I know some people mind that, Lots of it, Snark, Watcher Hildraed, more tags will added the more the story progresses, probably, rating because of the cussing mostly, there'll be no sexual content though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanara126/pseuds/Yanara126
Summary: Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.The adventures of Hildraed Danwsbane, my new Watcher. Chapters will be added as I play and have inspiration to use it. As far as I'm aware right now, the story will follow the general story of the game, with little changes to dialgue and such.Hildraed was born a farmer in Readceras, but soon lost her ground and became a pirate, fighting the establishment. She left when Waidwen's coup happened and spent 15 years in the Deadfire as a Príncipi pirate, before making a rather grivous mistake and retiring to the Dyrwood in hopes of getting some land again and spending the latter half of her life in relative peace.For a more detailed description, feel free to check out my tumblr, the link to which you'll find in my profile.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser & The Watcher, Edér Teylecg & The Watcher
Comments: 9
Kudos: 5





	1. Arrival and an elf lad

Hildraed was finally standing at her long awaited goal. She was standing. And staring. Mouth hanging open and eyes wide she was staring into the main plaza. Her head was empty, entirely filled with the sight before her eyes.

Finally, after what felt like at least three turns of the wheel, there was one word that her mouth formed.

“Fuck.”

She was tempted to close her eyes and take a deep breath, but she feared the stench of rotting flesh would finally knock her out. But what did she deserve really? How could she have dared to hope for a better situation. At least in Readceras they didn’t hang people from the trees, they just left them to starve.

“I take it you’re a new settler.” Oh fuck no, the land could be as cheap as it wanted to be, she was not staying here. A moment passed and Hildraed noticed that someone had to have asked the question. She turned around and immediately regretted it. Staring at her was a small, slimy looking man with an official looking broach on his cloak. His stare told her exactly what he was thinking of her, and for a second Hildraed was tempted to just punch him in the face and save herself the trouble of having to listen to him. Unfortunately, she was alone and severely battered, which made her chances of winning such an encounter rather slim.

And so she half heartedly listened to him, tuning him out as much as possible, and only occasionally throwing in a dry remark when he became all too insufferable. And then the bells rang, and with them Hildraed’s head. She was going to kill someone in this miserable dirt hole. Maybe this wretch, maybe the insane fuckhead in his castle, but somebody was going to die by her hand someday.

Glowering at the smug shithead in front of her and only barely managing to convince herself to not push him into the pit, she stomped over to the inn. First sleeping, then killing someone, then drinking herself under the table and hopefully erasing the last few day from her mind. In that order.

But before she could even enter the inn, the next trouble found her. Well then, maybe one of these people would be the dead ones. Probably the nervous, elvish money-bag over there. While she didn’t hold quite as much of a grudge against every single aedyran who ever lived as these… fine gentlemen seemed to, she certainly held no love for them, and the fact that this particular one very obviously came from the upper classes didn’t do him any favours either.

“Ay, you’re itchin’ for the kindeling touch o’ your sister!”

For a second Hildraed blinked. And then she laughed. Loudly and hideously she howled, head thrown back with absolute glee. Well then, maybe not this one perhaps. It took her a while to gasp for air again, and by this point the villagers were staring at her with suspicion. Still grinning she wiped a tear from her eye, not at all caring about their looks. The source of her hilarity however was starting to look seriously frightened as he stammered out excuses, so maybe it was time to stop them from lynching him.

“Ah well, now that we have that absolute gem of an accusation, how about you all fuck off and get to keep your innards for another day.” She could kill them. A part of her wanted to, but that little bit of fun had dredged up some of her good will.

“Ay, we don’t like getting told what to do by outsiders!” Well, perhaps not then. Hildraed’s mood soured again as the men squared up. Of course not. The following brawl was short but brutal. Even in her battered state Hildraed was a force to be reckoned with, and with well aimed hits she took down one after the other. She didn’t care if their necks broke in the process, if they were lucky they’d get up again in the morning, if not, well that wasn’t her problem. The last man went down, and left was only the now intimated looking elf with an unused grimoire in his hand.

“Well… Thank you for that.” An exhausted snort was his answer, and Hildraed spat some blood on the ground before glancing up to him again. She was pretty sure one eye was shifting a bit too much left…

“You’re welcome.”

“Are- are you alright?” This was not even worthy of a snort.

“Do I look like it?”

“N-no?”

“No, that’s right lad.” Blinking heavily Hildraed dragged one hand over face, the back of it coming away stained with dirt and blood. She scowled, before immediately wincing with regret as her head gave a painful pulse. A strand of her hung into her eyes, and she grabbed scowling some more through the pain. Her brown her was somehow both fatty and dry, hanging listlessly and grimy from her head in thick strands. Oh how she already missed the salty breeze of the ocean… Why had she ever agreed to come here? Surely she could have taken care of all the fuckers who wanted to see her hang, it couldn’t possibly have been worse than this.

Upon glancing up again she found the elf looking at her with concern and a half open mouth. Oh, maybe he’d been talking. Ups.

“Look lad, I’m far too tired for any of this and I heard exactly nothin’ you just said, so I’ll throw myself in there, and if you’re still there tomorrow, we can have a talk.” Not caring whether he followed or not, Hildread passed him by towards the inn on by now wobbling steps. Why couldn’t the land feel as nice as the sea? Although, her current problems probably had more to do with the agony spreading through her feet than missing land legs.

A loud curse ripped from her mouth as her shoulder painfully bumped into the doorframe from her unsteady walk, the urge to kick it as well only reined in by her not obeying muscles. Suddenly there was a slender hand on her elbow pulling her away from the wall and into the building. The elf had indeed followed her, and was now helping her stumble along the way in the inn, staring forward with visible concern and just as obviously already questioning his decision to follow and touch the scary, dirty, bloody, scarred and cussing woman who had just possibly killed three men.

A drunken grin spread over Hildraed’s face as her energy drained even faster. At least the boy had guts enough to know who to follow, even if he had a too big trap for his own good. And with that grimoire of his he might actually be useful later.

The next sensation she felt was a rough mattress under her cheek and her eyes shifting back from their apparently once again cross-eyed position. Dimly she knew that the elf boy must have dragged her all the way into a bedroom, but her muscles certainly didn’t care, as they finally relaxed a bit, still aching but at least not also attempting to hold her up anymore. With relieved sigh her eyes shut, and with vengeance she shoved all the shit from the last few days away to just sleep.

Alas, as she would soon find out, there is no sleep for the watcher.


	2. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the second chapter, but then it got longer and longer, so I guess you get this first. Hildraed what are you doing with my head?

Aloth hadn’t exactly expected much from this place, it was at best a mudhole, and at worst something that he would prefer not to voice. Still, Gilded Vale had somehow managed to disappoint him. Not only was he alone without any guidance, he was now also being threatened with immediate disembowelment. In the dark and rain. Woedica have mercy on him.

“I meant no offense. Let's put this matter to rest over a round, shall we? My treat.” Not that he particularly wanted to spend more of his coin here, but better coin than blood.

The man before him narrowed his eyes at him even more, the bloodshot red of his eyes sending shivers down Aloth’s back as memories shot through his uninvited. He didn’t much register the drunkards next words, but he couldn’t possibly miss as… she suddenly surged forward, sending a painful stab into his brain that had his stars dance in front of his eyes. When the sight was clear again, it wasn’t only the drunkard’s eyes that were red, instead his whole face was a dep red, and the anger had morphed into a blind rage.

He wanted to step back, but his feet were rooted to the ground. Hot and cold shivers ran through his body as he stared in horror, desperately trying to stutter out apologies for whatever she’d said. Somehow he managed to slowly reach for his grimoire, not that it would do him much good in a fight three against one.

Suddenly loud laughter rang from behind the three drunkards, splitting the night and boiling atmosphere with the coldness of shock. It was an ugly sort of laughter, loud and bellowing and dry, none of the refined, tasteful chuckles of his home.

When his opponents turned around to see whoever had snuck up only to bark their soul out with laughter, Aloth too risked shifting his attention behind them.

When he first saw the woman, he thought she was a walking dead. On the second look he could concede that she probably wasn’t, but only by a hair’s breadth. Even in the dark he could see her skin was paler than it seemed to usually be, blanched of colour and warmth. Her brown hair was hanging down her face in sticky strand, covered in some sort of substance that Aloth didn’t care to consider further. Her clothes seemed practical but not cheap, which made him wince even more at their state. They were ripped in places, dirty (and probably bloody from the looks of it), and generally mistreated, in a way that made Aloth feel self-conscious about himself.

It took her quite a while to somewhat calm down again, though she didn’t seem to mind the four people watching her with morbid fascination as she smeared dirt even further over her weathered features.

When she looked up again, directly into his eyes, Aloth felt the icey fear from before return. Three against one was already bad, four would be worse. And something about her sharp stare directly into his soul told him that should she choose to end him, he would not survive.

She stepped forward and Aloth gripped his grimoire and felt his knuckles turn white.

“Ah well, now that we have that absolute gem of an accusation, how about you all fuck off and get to keep your innards for another day.” Surprise and relief flooded him as she turned her attention to his assailants, even he cringed at both the roughness of her voice and words. He doubted the drunkards would take the not very subtle hint.

“Ay, we don’t like getting told what to do by outsiders!” Of course not. Still he wasn’t fast enough, his fingers fumbling just a bit too long with the heavy book to prevent the first punch from being thrown.

Though when he finally had it out, he was too stunned to react either way. The woman fought like a typhoon, dodging hits and decking out punches with a speed that he hadn’t expect from one looking so battered. Neither had their opponents apparently, and the fight was over as quickly as it had begun. He wasn’t sure the bodies on the ground were still breathing.

The woman certainly was though, gasping for and listing slightly to the side, eyes now unfocused and almost slightly misted.

He licked his lips, looking for the right words to say. He now had confirmation that he did not want to anger this woman.

“Well… Thank you for that.” A rather listless thanks, but at least a thanks nonetheless. A snort was his answer, followed by an ugly sounding spitting sound as a clomp of blood landed on the ground.

“You’re welcome.”

“Are- are you alright?” On the one hand he wanted to kick himself for not taking the opportunity and just leaving, but now she was listing even further, eyes starting to cross a little, and he was genuinely she was about to just keel over. And now matter how frightening she seemed, she had just saved his hide. Just letting her faint here would be at very least bad manners.

“Do I look like it?” Her eyes focused just enough on him to give him the same disappointed stare his teachers had given him every time he’d failed to give an answer, and Aloth shrunk back a little.

“N-no?”

“No, that’s right lad.” She sighed and fished a hairs strand from her mouth, staring at instead of him now with the same disappointment.

Despite the very strange circumstances and the fact that he healthily intimidated by her, now that the immediate danger of disembowelment was over, he felt strangely drawn to her. She was certainly a character, and a far more capable one than he’d first expected. Looking at her more closely (and pushing away his disgust), he found a fine scar down the side of her face, and a vaguely familiar looking tattoo on the other, though he couldn’t place it in the moment. On her back she carried a sword, somewhat hidden by her bulky cloak. A little surprised by his own boldness he made decision, fuelled by desperation to get out of this mudhole and find his contact, and also by an ever stronger burning curiosity.

“Nevertheless, you have my thanks, and perhaps I could be service to you as well. How about I buy you a drink and we can discuss an arrangement?” Expectedly he watched her, but seconds ticked by, and she didn’t react, just still continuously staring at her hair with a far-off look. Insecurity crept back in. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended her somehow?

Suddenly she blinked up at him again, looking at his still halfway open mouth for second before answering in slurred words.

“Look lad, I’m far too tired for any of this and I heard exactly nothin’ you just said, so I’ll throw myself in there, and if you’re still there tomorrow, we can have a talk.” Not waiting for a response she staggered forward and past him in direction of the inn, all the odd grace from the battle lost. With her wobbling steps Aloth was surprised she was walking at all.

When her shoulder hit the inn’s doorframe and she let out an angry shout he winced and hurried forward without much thinking. Attempting to avoid the filthiest spots of her sleeve he grabbed her elbow and gently pulled further inwards and away from the walls before he could really think about it.

The way to the inn’s counter wasn’t far, and somehow still felt very long. What was he doing? He could have left, he could have let her go herself, he could have just run, but now he was here, dragging her along and standing far too close to this woman he didn’t know and who had very much proven to be dangerous. That was it, he assured himself. He just didn’t want to and up on her bad side. Yes.

The woman behind the counter sent him a both concerned and suspicious look, and really he couldn’t fault her. Even if she hadn’t heard the commotion outside, he was dragging along a filthy and bloody woman by the arm, who was stumbling like she had only drunk liquor the last seven weeks. He sent her a what he hoped was an apologetic look and walked by her as quickly as possible by the ever-heavier weight on his side, and as the woman was sagging further and further into him and he away.

When they finally reached the common room, it felt like an eternity had passed. Still he somehow expected her to jump up and deck him too. She did no such thing however, and now he was standing in front of an empty bunk, without any idea of what to do. Lacking another option aside from throwing her onto the bunk, he gingerly let go, hoping she would just lay down herself. Instead she keeled over as soon as he let go. Too late to still catch her, Aloth could only watch her slam into the hard bunk with a bang and he cringed, expecting a sound of pain.

Once again she surprised him, as she completely ignored her hard contact with the cot if she’d even noticed it, instead giving a hum of relief and relaxing into the uncomfortable surface.

Finally Aloth sighed. What even was this day? What was this week? This year? His whole life really. Gingerly he massaged his hurting temple, knowing full well it wouldn’t help. He’d just wanted to leave.

Alas, now he might as well stay another night and satisfy his curiosity. A heavy feeling of something settling into his stomach he found another empty bench to sleep, questioning until deep into the night if he’d made the right choice.


	3. The Elf Lad and Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll definitely be chapter about sad Hildraed singing about how much she actually misses Readceras. This is not that chapter.

Hildraed woke up feeling betrayed. Her whole body still ached, burning low and uncomfortable. At the very least she was owed a fun time before for that, and though her memory of the last day was fuzzy, what she did remember did not for a good party make.

With a groan she pulled herself upright, glaring at the wall in front of her and waiting for her head to stop pulsing.

“Good morning.” The voice not far from her was just quiet enough to not ring more bells in her head, and also vaguely familiar enough to not make her jump at her sword. At least this wasn’t the worst morning she’d ever had. “I hope you’re well now.” The lad had a sense of humour it seemed. Slowly to not aggravate her head further she turned gave him a deadpan stare.

“Well, as so many are, your hopes are in vain.” He did not seem to know how to react to that, staring at her with a mixture between surprise, nervousness, and sulking. Hildraed cracked a little and grinned, deciding to have a little pity on him. “But they’re appreciated.”

Trying her best to substitute enthusiasm with energy, she swung her legs over the cot and pushed to her feet. Whatever the fuck was wrong with her now wasn’t going to go away by lying in bed it seemed so she might as well get going.

“Now, if my holey net of a brain isn’t wrong, you wanted something. So what do say if we go get breakfast and discuss that now?” Though she was usually the one to make demands, Hildraed was willing make an exception for the scrawny elf. He had helped her and for now had been a well-meaning source of amusement, so she would at least hear him out.

His eyebrows scrunched a bit at the mention of breakfast, causing Hildraed throw a short look around. They were in the common room of an inn, simple, bordering on shabby really. Hildraed’s lips twitched upwards again, already vaguely amused at the prospect of watching the noble brat chew around on commoners’ food. Funny lad that one.

He didn’t let that deter him for long though, and with more grace that Hildraed herself could be bothered with right now, he also pulled himself up. Already she turned to get that food, but determined step later he stood in front of her and held out his hand.

“Aloth Corfiser, at your service.” That did surprise her a little, she hadn’t expected him to willingly offer to touch her again, and to be fair, with her current state she wasn’t sure she’d have either. But then, he had proven last night to have quite some spunk when he wanted, so perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising. She grasped the offered hand with more force than probably would have been necessary and smiled, letting her teeth show clearly.

“Hildraed.” Just Hildraed. She had no intention of sharing her moniker, that one she had abandoned back in the Deadfire. “And at no one’s service, because I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.” Once again he surprised her, holding tight to her forearm and if anything squaring up against her at the slight. Spunk indeed. Hildraed liked him.

Satisfied she pulled her arm away again and moved to finally get that promised food her stomach was yearning for. Behind her, she heard a quiet sigh and once again grinned.

The grin faded quickly however when she was confronted with why exactly the elf had been so reluctant about breakfast.

With an intrigued look she lifted her spoon and let the slimy grub slowly slurp down into the bowl. Aloth, sitting across from her, was eating his own with resigned disgust.

“Are you sure this is edible?” She’d eaten some shit in her life, during her childhood especially there was no such thing as being picky, but still her pride was not enticed by this.

“It is, I’ve been eating it for several days and it has yet to kill me. Nonetheless, I would prefer not to eat it again.” A wish they most certainly shared. But as of now she was hungry and with no other opinion, so she grumpily shoved down her pride, and the spoon into her mouth. Loudly and pointedly she chewed around on it. Bland, horrible consistency, but indeed edible.

“So, what brings you here to this… lovely place?” Not even looking at him he opened her mouth, ready to end this farce of small talk and tell him to mind his own business, but in the last second changed her mind. Perhaps… She sat the spoon down into the bowl, put her elbows on the table and her chin on her folded hands, staring at him very thoroughly.

“What do you know of animancy?” A flood of badly hid emotions was suddenly displayed on his face, and Hildraed could see him gear up defensively. But before he could decide on an answer, she leaned back smirking, and continued on. “More than you should I see. Don’t worry I won’t ask. But perhaps you’ll understand this then.”

And so she told him what happened these last days. Her own past she left unmentioned of course, everything after the caravan was fair game, especially if she wanted to keep him around. Which she did, she’d been alone for a while, and she’d never really been one for solitude. The lad was funny and she liked him. Hopefully that grimoire wasn’t just for show. Unsurprisingly he didn’t know much, but seemed fairly intrigued nonetheless, and indeed offered his company if she were to get him out of Gilded Vale. And certainly nothing easier than that, she had no intention of staying.

“Where to next then?”

“Now we’ll go see if that dead dwarf from my nightmares wants to talk to me.” She looked down at the last bit of grub at the bottom of her bowl, that was slowly starting to liquify. “And then we’ll go find that cook”

Though Aloth seemed hardly convinced by that first idea, the second one seemed too enticing to not take it, and so obviously bit back whatever a comment was forming in his head. A shame.

It turned out, the dead dwarf did want to talk to her, and far more literally than Hildraed had expected. It was a strangely no strange experience. Sure, it was disorienting and slightly creepy, but could hold no candle to the adrenalin rush that was chanting. She already knew how souls felt and how to make the shards obey her, it was just now they wanted to. Odd, but hardly as odd she had expected from all the tales she’d heard.

Far odder was the man now staring at her. Blond, tall, and muscular he wasn’t bad eye candy, but somehow, despite the mirth he displayed with a dark humour Hildraed could certainly appreciate, he looked deader than the dwarf.

“You look like the sort that likes to get involved.” Oh how right he was. Already it was itching in her fingers to just off the fucker in his high castle, punch everyone else in this stupid village, including the lethargic hunk, and make dredge themselves out of their fucking misery. But no, those days were behind her. No more open rebellions. She’d had her fun, she’d done her job, and now she would solve whatever this watcher bullshit was and find somewhere to settle down. She would. And she would start by having a normal conversation with this man.

“Your mouth was so slack I took you for a Readcric at first.”

“Impossible, I don’t drool half as much.” Fuck. Oh well. The normal had never suited her anyway. And he seemed inclined to indulge her banter, so why not enjoy it.

So of course he turned out to be an eothasian war veteran. Of course. The universe was out to punish her for her blasphemy. The universe should know better though, because of course Hildraed was going to take this as a challenge. With vengeance she pushed the memories of her long missed homeland away and invited him along.


	4. Watching and Fucking Morals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a "haha, aren't characters who hate their own morals funny?" chapter, but then I listened to the Mary Ellen Carter on repeat. Whoops. And since I already decided that Hildraed sounds like Derina Harvey I thought I might as well roll with it. Here's a youtube link to the song, it's great.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4QLdqYW60M&ab_channel=DerinaHarveyBand

Hildraed was mad. And she hated this town. Why was she even still here? Because fucking damnit she felt bad for these people. It had started with the damn cook, continued with the poor abused woman (had the fucker not been dead she’d have killed him herself) And then there was the blacksmith who’d promised her a discount, Aufra with her probably soulless baby (not that she’d told her that), and then the goddamn farmers. Because it always came down to farmers, didn’t it? And now she was slouching back in the inn, nursing some bad ale. And the stupid hunk was smiling at her. Fuck him. Eh, maybe later.

Aloth was far better to focus on, with his companionable grouchiness.

With a more desperate than enthusiastic swing she drained her cup and it slammed it down again, trying to pretend the ale wasn’t more water than alcohol.

“I hate this place.” Edér’s stupid grin only got wider. Hildraed glared some more at the cup. She wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Does that mean we can finally leave?” Hildraed didn’t miss the desperation in Aloth’s tone and almost felt bad for him. Only almost though, she felt way worse for herself.

“Yeah. Yeah we can. In fact, we will right now.” Originally she’d intended to stay one more night and leave in the morning, but if she had to continue seeing Edér’s stupid, satisfied smirk she was going to punch him after all. She slammed a few coins on the table, not bothering with counting out the exact amount, grabbed her bag and stomped out the door. Behind her she could hear her new companions scrambling to finish their own drinks and hurry after her.

Outside she had mercy on them and waited a bit for them to catch up, grinning again at Aloth’s relieved sigh. It was too easy to play him. She’d have to teach him a bit to avoid having him be all to easy to manipulate.

Edér apparently wasn’t in quite as much of a hurry, and while waiting for his heavy footsteps to join them, Hildraed found her attention wandering through the miserable town. And of course, her gaze once again landed on the tree. Ever since her first meeting with the dwarf woman she drifted back to the fucking tree. There were no more souls left there, she’d checked far more than she would ever admit, and still her steps kept pulling her back there. And so now again.

The stench was in her nose before she was even aware what she was doing. Dangling, rotting limbs filled her vision as she stared up, wood and flesh melting together. All around her there were purple shimmers, whisperings that drover her mad all around the clock, but looking up there there was nothing, and somehow that was worse. She’d seen hangings before of course. She’d seen people she’d known and even liked hang much the same way. But something about this made her angrier.

This was messy. This wasn’t justice, it was a blood rage. The pirates she’d seen hung had known the risks. Perhaps they hadn’t deserved it either, some had been good people, some had absolutely asked for it, but all of them known. These people up in the tree had just lived, had perhaps never broken a law in their lives, had been punished for suffering a tragedy.

A hand landed on her shoulder and Hildraed flinched, cursing herself for losing focus. That was dangerous at the best of times, which this was not. Just this time the universe seemed to forgive her mistake though, and Edér stood next to her, chewing on his pipe. He didn’t say anything, only stood there, looking up as well, his rough hand, marred much like her own, on her shoulder.

Hildraed didn’t know what triggered it, maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe the weight of the last few days were finally drowning her, maybe it was that thrice-damned look of defeat in his eyes, but something in her mind clicked into place and she knew what she still had to do here. It was a terrible idea, would bare way too much to these people she barely knew, but she had to nonetheless.

“You know what my favourite song is? T’s about a boat.” Edér glanced at her, surprised and confused, but still amused.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now? I thought you don’t do empathy?”

“Shut up, I’m drunk.” No she wasn’t, she hadn’t drunk enough of the water ale for that, but he didn’t need to know that.

“No, you’re not.” Well so much for her reputation then. She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring with all the intensity she could muster through all the aches of her body and constant buzz of soul fizzles pressing against her new senses.

“You. I don’t like you.” That didn’t seem to intimidate him at all, if anything he just got softer. Hildraed sighed and looked away again. What crew had she gotten herself here? One who was easier to play than a fiddle but had a wrong string and one who already laughed at her. And still…

“My mom always sang it when we were down on our luck. It’s about a crew saving their boat after it already sank. It was the first chant I learnt. I’ve sung it every time the universe hated me especially.” It had carried her through her 35 years of life even when nothing else had. She’d shared it every time she’d sung it, just as she’d been taught. This one thing wasn’t something to keep to herself. She had no intention of sharing anything else, the secret of her past would die with her as far she was concerned, but this one thing she’d keep throwing into the world as often as necessary. And right now it was very necessary.

With another look at Edér, and not the fucking tree, she turned around and stalked out of the pit. Aloth was standing a bit away in the shadow of a wall, trying to keep himself out of the public eye. Hildraed sat down not far from him at the edge of the pit and pulled her old lute from her back. She gave it a loving pat, before starting to pluck the strings in a familiar tune. Behind she could hear Aloth shift a little closer, in front of her could see Edér settling down next to her, but she ignored both of them.

“ _She went down last mid-winter in a pouring driving rain…”_ It had been a while since she’d last played it, and the familiar notes rang something deep in her, tugging at places within herself that she didn’t have a name for before.

_“There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash_

_We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost…”_ It had taken her own boat to really understand it. In her youth it had been a nice story, and good tune with an inspirational message. Now as an adult it meant so much more. Her fingers danced over the strings with more elegance than she’d been able to work up in weeks, her foot tapped the rhythm, her body swayed with waves that weren’t there, her mouth formed the words that had accompanied her for so long.

_“But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,_

_For she's worth a quarter million, just floatin’ at the dock_

_And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain…”_ Another foot joined in the rhythm, but Hildraed didn’t look up. Chanting was always exhilarating, but this was special in another way. She felt the words reverberate around her, felt souls stirring as the story continued to follow the melody. There was a clarity that had never been there before, an awareness that had nothing and everything to do with this song so dear to her. More souls were drawn closer, and it felt like drowning in life.

_“All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend_

_Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends_

_Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow_

_Or I'd never have the strength to go below_

_But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down_

_Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around_

_Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain…”_ There were people all around now, and somewhere the logical part of Hildraed knew she needed to be careful, to be aware of everyone around her, to not let herself be caught off-guard again. Unfortunately, that part was buried deep under the emotions and sensations flooding everything else. At this point she wasn’t sure what was hers anymore, she just kept playing and singing, surrounded by more whispers than ever. Whispers of pasts, of uncertain futures.

_“And you, to whom adversity has dealt a mortal blow_

_With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go_

_Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain_

_And like the Mary Ellyn Carter, rise again!_

_Rise again, rise again; though your heart it be broken_

_And life about to end_

_No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend_

_Like the Mary Ellyn Carter, rise again!”_

She played the final cord, sung the final tune, and her fingers and tongue stilled. The whispers were still there, ringing loudly in her ears and rising to a crescendo, making her head hurt even more- Wait, no, that was clapping. A few hands clapping around her, and Hildraed finally looked up, eyes a little bit clearer now. It wasn’t as many people as she’d thought, a few guests from the inn, a few people from the surrounding houses. And Hildraed stared.

It wasn’t so much that she minded the audience, quite the opposite really, she’d always enjoyed hogging people’s attention. But that had been before this stupid shit. Before she’d started noticing way too fucking much, while losing focus of everything else.

But then, as it always was, it didn’t take too long for the people to notice that the show was over, and they dispersed again, throwing strange looks in her direction that she didn’t bother to notice. She’d be gone now anyway, let them think what they want.

In the end only two were left, one on each side, though when Aloth moved next to her she couldn’t say. Her head still hurt, she was confused more than ever, and she still hated this place, and yet she felt a little lighter now. The tree was still there, and it was still abominable, but maybe now she could finally stop looking at it.

And maybe now they could finally fuck off.


End file.
